Dante gets duped
by Ellered
Summary: Torturing Dante was the first thing on her mind but can she survive afterward? Dante,Trish,OC. implied DXT light bondage. Written for a good friend back in 2003, complete!
1. Drinking, Dungeons, and Drugs

A/N: This dedicated to a friend and written back in 2003. No revision has been done. Kept it as is from 2003.

* * *

The moon shone brightly on the street of the alleyway, illuminating the path towards DEVIL MAY CRY, an establishment meant for the famous and_ infamous_ Dante Sparda. It was not however known how he had acquired his powers to many in that lived along that street corner, nor do many own many housing in that path but if one may look closer, it housed many warehouses.

There was a blonde who lived there for awhile although she moved out and by the looks of things, the red clad devil hunter was all the more pleased, having several women coming in and out of there. It was little wonder why he loved his women, all that drinking, rock metal music, and debauchery. It seemed always night time when the neon lights flickered on and off, creating a halo of Las Vegas in a run down neighborhood. Inside sits the silver haired man. Lounging behind his desk, making sure he had enough booze to fill his empty nights.

It was just another day. Another day to kill demons and Dante was up to more of the same ole' thing, using Ebony and Ivory and making sure he took turns firing them. If they could talk, he was sure they'd show signs of jealousy. Drinking beer was often of late something Dante had been doing. Empty beer cans lay all over the place and the smell of his place was disgusting. He didn't know if it came from his lack of cleaning or the fact that the smells probably seeped out from the trophies on the wall. Trish had left on some kind of long journey mission to some other side of the world deal so he's left alone to care for the place and with some consolation kept his magazines atop his desk to briefly scan the contents of lack of female wear.

The phone hardly rang now and when it did, it startled him, making him jump up in his long reverie. He liked to party a little too much and play with his drums a lot. At least he could do that. The blonde that lived with him hated the sound of them and she ordered him about telling him to sell them. He never listened to her anyway but actually missed her presence to some extent because it was never good to be alone. Human females were not so pleasant; they usually enjoyed the fact that he was some kind of secret agent and found him so dangerous that they adored him endlessly. That got a bit tiring.

He closed his eyes, turned up the music and nodded his head to sleep. It was going to be another missionless evening. There was a sudden crash that broke through his window. He became instantly alert and ran to the front of his office, seeing the damages there. On the floor, lay a wrapped item, around it lay the broken shards of glass and Dante cursed thinking about all the damages he had to pay before to get his place fixed when that blonde destroyed it with fire.

He picked it up and un wrapped the item. The ice blue eyes widened at the sight of a statue, a small statue that looked unmistakably like a mummified sin scythe. Scratching his silver head, he cursed silently and knew this represented revenge from the sin scissor family. He had destroyed so many of them back in Mallet Island that they were virtually non existent. It was one of Mundus's creations and looked very much like the death bringers in between worlds.

He didn't have time to react when the enfolding dark smoke embraced his body in immediate caress, a choking embalming that seem to overtake his senses and he partially was able to emit a small scream, instantly reaching for his weapons but they were out of reach and the smoke continued to encompass his entirety, and Dante went out in a light, his eyes turning red before he passed out on the floor. The last thing he remembered was the blackness and the overbearing coldness that seeped through his veins. It was dark and was very cold, like the frostbite that would never go away.

Moments passed, and his door opened with two people walking in, both wearing long Hessian boots and made the wood planks of Dante's floorboards creak. The devil hunter lay there, hands outstretched with one gripping the sin scythe figurine. One of the figures reached out and took the piece and made a noisey clucking on the side of her mouth. She grinned evilly as the light from the neon flickering sign shone on the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she spoke the words,

"At last, Dante Sparda. It's been so long since we last met."

Then she kissed the figurine and whispered, "You did a wonderful job."

The other figure smiled at her, giggling profusely, although smaller in height than his mistress, was able to produce an equally evil smile, showing yellow glaring teeth and large round eyes. He sneered and coughed out,

"What shall we do with him now, my mistress?"

"Why what we shall always do, my follower. We shall take the famous demon hunter and tie him up. We shall do what we've come here to do. Kill him. Slowly. Torture him. It is what we've planned all along now haven't we?"

Dante moved slightly, feeling pain rip through his body, the aching prodding headache felt like a sledgehammer was making tap dances atop his silver head and all he could do was groan as he felt his arms held up by chains. He tugged at them, the dizziness in his vision a slight pain in the ass compared to his head pain but this was another matter entirely. Chained up he could usually break through them but he couldn't even devil trigger and that made him instantly sober. Something was definitely wrong.

Looking around his surroundings, he was sure he was in a dungeon with sixteenth century chain links but these chains were magical for all of his strength he couldn't budge them or make any movement to alleviate himself from this preposterous situation. Taking a slight inhalation of breath, remembering the art of breathing from one of Trish's textual books she had read up on when she joined this How to be a better breather in an anger management program and How to do yoga, it came in handy. Not that half devils like him were privy to situations that came on like this.

He felt sick, and the taste of cotton mouth was in his throat, just like the feeling of taking drugs and he didn't like them. He had experimented them when he was younger, wilder, and not that he isn't as wild now, he felt they destroyed too much of his devil triggering and the thought came on to him just now. Drugs. Damn. They must have drugged him. Something very powerful did this to him and therefore made him have the inability to devil trigger. A woman materialized in front of him. She was wearing those long Hessian boots and the fullness of her body accentuated by the tight fitting wooly dress she wore, and they barely covered her knees. She was not wearing sixteenth century clothing at least. He could however conclude he was not in some kind of bloody time warp.

With her hair long, it shone black and blue, tints of bluish coloring seem to sparkle in that dungeon and Dante's eyes scanned her, searching for any weapons or a smell of demonic energy and she possessed none of that. Although there was something else. Something he couldn't quite figure out and realized with some urgency that there was a familiarity about her he couldn't quite place.

"I see you have decided to remember me after all, Dante Sparda."

Her voice cracked, in that similar way he recalled, a faint scent about her and yes, she was the woman he had asked out a long time ago, took her to his bed and left her the next morning. It wasn't as if he didn't do that often, for he did it with less immediacy as when he often drank. After the mission to Mallet island though it did happen to him that the presence of the demon blonde was enough to keep his wildness in check. He grunted, barely able to produce any audible noise and when he did speak, there was slight slur to his speech, as if the drug that was most likely administered had its effect on him with a strong hold.

"What is it you want?" He slurred out the words, spittle started to fall ashamedly down his cheek and the woman who had formed in front of him like a ghost, reached out to touch the dribble there and replaced it with her lips. They felt cold on his cheek, making him shiver and he felt so powerless, so human.

"I can read your thoughts you know. I know you are powerless, you poor thing you."

The woman reached out and caressed his silver strands and smiled. She really loved Dante Sparda like this, helpless and alone, once a powerful figure, now a mere pathetic invalid.

"You've been drugged, yes, I can read your thoughts, my lovely Sparda."

Then she pushed her head back and laughed, the laughter rang through the cells of the entire room, bouncing off the corroded walls and the enchantment of it, rang and rang in his ears. He was helpless and drugged and Dante Sparda was up against someone he didn't even have any knowledge of since she smelled of human and something else. Though it was quite hard for him at this stage, not knowing your opponent and not understanding the reasons behind their manipulative plans and that was all he could think of as he faded into the background of his memory.

Looking at the silver haired man's body going into a complete slump, the woman with the eerily appearance walked closer and took the chains off. She became immediately worried that her prey was dying and cursed her stupid fool of a follower because he might have given this hunter a little too much in the way of administrating drugs. Can't get good help these days, she cursed out loud, and let Dante's arms go around her as he slumped his dead weight on hers. She groaned, smelling his hair, the tangy wispiness of it, and realized how much she had missed him. It took so long for her to get her plans in order and glad that the wench, Trish, or who ever that blonde was left in time for this to take place.


	2. Trish trekking and Dante's torture

Authors notes: This is originally dedicated to James Dean. No, not the one who died in a car crash but the one who reviews. ^_^ Thanks to those who gave me suggestions because I have no idea where this is going. I just wanted to create a fanfic for James Dean to make fun of him because he is metaphorically enslaved.   
  
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. It is a great pleasure to recieve reviews because they mean so much to all authors.   
  
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Trish in Tibet (Not for seven years)  
  
Looking over at the horizon atop the mountain, Trish slowly scanned the beauty and magnificence of the spectacular show she was presented. It was such a good feeling to get back to nature again. To feel the rush of the wind, pure and simple, a gift from Mother Earth and the invitation to visit the most respected monasteries in Tibet. Perhaps she should have rented that movie, the one Brad Pitt played in so she can get a feel of the experience before hand. What does it matter anyway, she was a demon and demon's blood ran through her like acid in a car battery, and the awareness brought a sting to her already emotional feelings. She left Dante behind. Memories came in waves to her sub conscious.   
  
***  
  
(Flashback)   
  
Mundus was defeated.  
  
It was over.  
  
The chaos and destruction around them was over. At least for now. Dante rushed to Trish, avoiding the stones and fallen debris around them, he padded over the water, stumbling slightly, reaching out. Trish was so happy, it was plainly written all over her face. The rush she felt inside her was better than what she felt when she tried to kill him. Confusion was beating inside her mind and her heart. She ran to him as he made himself available with open arms. He voiced out one word, one shout among the fallen rubble and the wreckage became a blur around them.   
  
"Trish!"  
  
Yes, well, she thought, running to him, it's not like he had much to say anything else now did he? He held her as she let salt bitter tears fall heedlessly down her cheeks. It was a momentous time. That's when he told her that devils never cry. She was still a devil no matter what he said.   
  
Indeed.  
  
***  
  
(End flashback)  
  
She broke off her daydreaming and realized there was a tiny monkish dude tugging at her arm. Looking down, the man was one of the kind hearted monks who had helped her relax and take refuge in their prayers and learn much from them. Though in truth, her appetite was worse for the wear. Her addiction to sweets and other generous portions of human food were greatly missed. They had three meals a day: morning is a time for tea and a piece of bread. Bread was a bit hard for the teeth but still edible. At noon the monks are provided with thugpa--noodle soup with vegetables. She ate that up real fast too. In the evening they received more noodles and tea again. Trish felt like she would drown in tea. These Tibetan monks need to realize that food is important too to keep up energy.   
  
A demon girl like her needed it for sustenance but for some odd reason, they showed her that the kinds of food she usually indulged in were not necessary. To keep the mind and body in check one had to meditate all day and go to great lengths of prayer and solitude. Listening to the mind and spirit. Well she thought, of course since they had no other energy left but to meditate and sit all day. Sighing, she really needed to practice her mind to be more generous and open minded. Truth be told, she was a veritable cynic.   
  
"Are you ready to come back inside, Trish." The little monk dude replied. He wore a clean crisp pale worn out orange robe that clung to his small stature.  
  
She smiled and nodded.   
  
Heading back towards the zigzagging path to the monastery, her mission was nearly done and took another long healthy breath of the cool fresh air that ran along the mountaintops. She didn't know if she was going to come back to Dante or the Devil May Cry establishment. It had changed to Devil Never Cry but Dante thought it was a lame sign after awhile and it was immediately returned to the original. Maybe she should call Dante to see if everything was alright. There was this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that he might not be alright but she simply vanish them away, knowing that that stubborn demon hunter was quite capable. After all, he did go into Mallet Island and come back alive.   
  
As she walked back, there was a small thought that seeped in her mind,  
  
"With her help he was able to get out alive."  
  
***  
  
Dante winced; the pain shooting through his veins hurt him badly, feeling so immobilized, barely able to see but the woman who he had let his numb body fall over. She was quite strong for someone so delicate looking. He kept it in his memory that his opponent had the ability to read minds and that she had obviously some vendetta against him. But what? The fact that he left her the next morning? He's done that dozens of times with women and though he was not the type to do one night stands he was even more afraid to commit. Damn. What are human females suppose to do with him anyway when they find out he was a demon hunter? It was bad enough that they worshipped the ground he walked on. Trish had warned him about his Don Juan ways and that it would someday come back to bite him in the ass, literally.   
  
This however was a bad case of fatal attraction.   
  
The woman who held his fate was whispering something in his ear and her voice cracked,  
  
"Darling Dante, you can feel the pain, can't you? Yes, my dear, it's ripping through your system. You can't devil trigger and that's a good thing because you'll do a number on me if you could. Now we can't have that going around. No, no, no. You're just so precious like this."   
  
The maddening of her insanity was barely registering in Dante's dazed psyche. He clung on to what information he could take in, yet his vision was blurring and the drug inside him was powerful. She took his face in her hands, holding them still, forcing him to look at her.   
  
"Yes, you are going to pay for everything you've done to me, Dante. You're going to feel the pain I've been feeling for so long. I won't even shed a tear when you're finally gone from this world. No more devil hunting for sweet ole' Sparda and the powerful Sparda line will no longer be spread out to destroy demons. But first, I shall play a little game with you."  
  
She gave him a quick kiss and laughed. Her servant came running into the room, and Dante's half closed eyes shifted to him, noting his appearance; a shorter man with large eyes and a limping gait. The shorter man groveled at his mistress and did everything she asked. It was like watching a horror flick with the woman being the bearer of manipulative means. Obviously her thirst for power went beyond the normal means of typical revenge. This plan was concocted for a long time. That much was clear to his bemused mind. He wondered how long he could withstand the drug that was coursing through him. Their voices were becoming fainter, like echoes, exactly how he felt when he had a fever so long ago with his mother caressing his temples, soothing him to sleep. The remembrance of that ripped through him and nearly sent him to oblivion but he clung on.   
  
"You stupid fool! You gave him too much!" screamed the woman to her servant.   
  
"I gave him as much as you told me to, mistress. I only do what you ask to please you."   
  
She smacked him on the head, sending him cowering in the corner, his one eye opened up to look at her, "Please, please, don't torture me. I swear I only gave him enough that was needed."  
  
"Oh stop thinking I'm going to torture you! The only one I'm interested in torturing is Dante. Not you! Now get over here and help me prop him up. I want to undress him."  
  
"Mistress. Undress him?" His one eye opened up slightly larger.   
  
She rolled her eyes, feeling the slight pulse of her temple pulsating from the sheer stupidity she has to deal with. "Yes, you fool! Undress him! My darling Sparda will enjoy the wonderful tortures I have prepared for him."  
  
Reaching out to peel his red jacket, her hands shook slightly, fanning out to feel the strength of his shoulders now slooped over her, his silver strands hanging over his eyes and ragged breathing became a slow slight breath. She must have him more coherent or else it'll be no fun!   
  
Slapping his cheeks with the palm of her hands, she tried to wake him. Dante moaned, opened his parched lips and asked for water, anything to drink. He only had a bottle of whiskey earlier and it did no good for his thirst. The drugs only made him thirstier and forming a few incoherent words were all the devil hunter could utter.   
  
"Please. I am so thirsty."  
  
Chuckling, the woman's lips formed a grin, realizing to her own small horror that she was glad he was able to talk at all. Despite the fact that she loved to see him grovel for a drink, there was also the feeling of sadness if he faded before she could make use of him. 


	3. Whips and the Other Stuff

A/N: Finally, an update! ^_^ James Dean would really enjoy the following chapters! (laughs evilly) And hopefully you all will too! Thanks again everyone! Let's see if our silver haired half devil will be able to get himself out of this!  
  
****  
  
"Here, drink up. It may be your last."   
  
She set the straw in his mouth, and pulled it away as his lips tried to close on them. "No not with the straw. It's not messy enough."   
  
Bringing the glass of water to his lips, Dante gulped in the contents that were halfway spilling across his bared chest,  
  
water rivulets making tracks downward, causing the woman to giggle with satisfaction at the sight.   
  
"Yes, that's right, baby. That's right. Drink it all down."   
  
He had had enough and pulled his head to one side. Feeling a little better, hoping that perhaps the water would absorb the drugs inside him and maybe he'd be asking for bathroom privileges before she set to work on him. It was not soon enough as Dante could feel himself getting undressed, by the feminine hands pulling at the rest of his upper clothing. Leaving him vulnerable to the coldness, though he felt was not chilled from the atmosphere but from inner turmoil, being powerless under the control of someone who is able to stage-manage situations. At this moment, it was his condition she manipulated.   
  
To control the power of mind reading meant someone with a higher intelligence and he steeled himself to keep her from reading any more thoughts that he might want to shield. But how was he able to do that? With him being as weak as he was, drugged to the point of exhaustion and near collapse, unable to do any devil triggering was the most exasperating and helpless feeling in the world. He'll make sure she got her payment for all the things she meant to do to him! These enraged thoughts connected to her and she chuckled.  
  
"Now now, Dante dearest, we mustn't get all vindictive. You're a bad boy, Dante Sparda, so very very bad that you left little ole' me alone in a bed by my lonesome and never so much as a single phone call. That isn't so hard now is it? Just pick up the phone and call."   
  
She got closer to his face, enjoying the upper nudity he now was able to give her for her viewing pleasure, noting the little goose bumpies that lined along his arms. She continued, "You think you can get away with anything now can you? No way, not this time, demon hunter of Sparda, no more having your way with innocent girls like me!"  
  
Dante grumbled, his head hanging forward, silver long bangs fell, blocking his view from the woman whose voice cracked harshly with more fervor as she exacted her vengeful words,   
  
"Woman……you're not even close to being innocent."  
  
With that reply, the woman became incensed, immediately ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of a handful of silver hairs, pulled them in a clump and pushed his head back with force. That emitted a silent curse and a pained look from Dante.   
  
"Hush now, wouldn't want you to get all sarcastic on me either!" she looked over at the other man who was watching with gleeful interest. "Hurry up with those you stupid cowering fool!" she yelled.  
  
The man whose one eye widened at her command, shuffled himself closer to his mistress, then opened up his closed fists at the contents there, revealing interesting devices that even surprised Dante himself. It made him fear momentarily for the first time in his life.   
  
"NO!" Dante rasped painfully. Shaking his head side to side, his hands making fists and blue frosty eyes pleaded with this malicious woman. The woman in turned rapped the shorter assistant with force on his head, making him flinch and cry out.   
  
"You dimwit! Not the Viagra!"  
  
"But mistress, I thought…"  
  
That received another whack from his mistress and he whined inwardly, thinking of all the bumps atop his head that would form within the hour.   
  
"If I wanted Dante Sparda that way, I would do it without the use of those kinds of drugs! Arrrgggh! Now give me the other ones."  
  
The other ones that she was asking for were, one: the small pink panty thongs that looked suspiciously for a man. "Now this is delightful!" she squealed, as she held them up. . And the second were these custom-made whips. As whips go, they seem sturdy enough for any one else but for the devil hunter, well, they would have to be more than sturdy. That is why they are customized. A long sinewy lengthy cord with cold current going through them, battery needed, which she immediately popped a couple of small triple A's at the end handle. She looked carefully at her moaning prey, he was so deliciously sweet like this, all huddled up against the wall, his eyes flitting towards the items made for him.  
  
"As you know, these are for you. Now be a good boy and take it like a devil hunter, this may be your last wonderful taste of what torture and pleasure could feel like."  
  
****  
  
(Back in Tibet)  
  
Trish was having a difficult time trying to concentrate. She kept visualizing elemental meditation in which she combined fire as a burning bush, rain as lightning and thunder accompanied as a downpour and the earth as something that the following flood had soaked up and now has caused a muddy picture. It was not coming out right in her mind. Then lastly, the winds to swish it all in one big pile of gooey clay making her break off the meditation and that was not all that was bothering her. The flash of insight that seemed to make pictures in her head worried her. It was Dante. If there's one thing that bugged and relieved her is the fact that she possessed the ability to sense something was wrong with Dante. This was transferred from his mother's likeness. Everything she had, her looks as well as her own feelings, emotions and deep psyche. So if anything was wrong with her partner, she'd know intuitively.   
  
Should she just take off and devil triggers herself halfway there, hitching a ride on a plane and checking in on Dante? A phone call would be costlier. Using powers would be cheaper. How she loved this power and knowing that despite the fact that her kind was most feared and hated, demonic powers rule. That brought her a chuckle and some side looks from her fellow monks who were sitting peacefully by her side, meditating and humming. There was really no time to lose and it was time to say her goodbyes to her new friends. Just like a mama to get all worried for the hunter.   
  
***  
  
(Torture!)  
  
Dante was not pleased. The drugs were not wearing off and he felt the pain of humiliation as he was being hauled up in chains again, this time with a change of clothes. The feel of the underwear were killing him and if that weren't enough, the woman who orchestrated these events tapped her fingers on the whip she held. A curve of a smile played on her lips and she purred,   
  
"Don't you look yummy, yet oddly cute, Dante."   
  
She laughed robustly, and her short partner snickered from behind, enjoying the sight of a powerful demon hunter shamed, tied up and chained, brought to this most terrible situation.   
  
The silver bangs hung over his eyes, yet they glittered ominously through his haze like drug induced feelings, spitting out words that sounded slurred,   
  
"I'll make you pay. I swear it when I get out of here and trust me, I will."  
  
That brought on a halt to the woman's laughter. She cocked one dark brow and clucked her tongue,   
  
"Really? You seem so sure of that? Well, let me demonstrate my love for you."  
  
With a quick stroke, she sent the whip flying in the air, touching the skin of the hunter, just barely so, cracking noises could be heard outside, and the current of electricity caused a shiver down Dante's spine. 


	4. The Rescue and the Coins

Authors Notes: ^_^ Yay! I want to make this the last chapter unless someone else throws me a bone so happy reading and THANKS! Again, I can't stress enough how much your reviews mean so much for this to happen! (Hugs you all with two big make believe stretchable arms)   
  
James Dean: Enslavement wasn't so bad now was it? (muhahaha)  
  
______________________  
  
It is said that you must learn how the unfortunate ones suffer in order to understand the depths of pain, humiliation and the horrible experiences your fellow mankind have endured. Dante need not have to go through this type of torture to understand what that would feel like. He was already trying to do lots of saving and rescuing with his undercover demon hunting job. The pay was not enough but it wasn't money that urged him on, but interestingly enough, it wasn't all about saving humans from his father's race of hellhounds. The whip that touched his skin felt like little bee stings. It wasn't as if it were that painful either. The woman got her rocks off by just seeing him in this dilemma.   
  
Her little assistant brought a box to her and inside were different array of feathers. She giggled, "Oh yes, the ultimate tickling method! I always did love that kind of torture but I don't think that would work on him. Send that away."  
  
Next, the short man brought small blades and a jar of salt. The woman grinned at this,   
  
"Ah yes! I thought about cutting his flesh and rubbing salt in the wounds but no, no, that's not going to help either! He'll only cause his healing system to kick in as usual. Although….."   
  
Thinking that his healing system was probably doing null right now due to the drug and keeping his devil trigger at bay was a good thing indeed. Then her subordinate mentioned something interesting,   
  
"Mistress, what about if we bring a harem of beautiful sexy girls in here for him to torture him by not giving him pleasure?"  
  
"What?" She rapped him another blow on the head. "What idiocy! What would I need other girls in here for? I have myself for that if I needed. And what is with you and naughty things?"  
  
Squinting an eye at her he shuffled away, not replying back but mumbled to himself, "I was hoping to get my kicks off too."  
  
They heard a crash, a crashing racket that sent the two on their heels. The woman made loud noises with her Hessian boots on the dungeon floor and she screamed out,   
  
"Someone's gotten in! How the hell?"   
  
When they both came out of the dungeon, there at the foot of the door entrance was a figurine. The sin scythe figurine that Dante had been tricked by breathing into the seductive smoke and surprise tactics but the mysterious woman was not to be tricked and yelled out,   
  
"Whoever did this is pretty stupid to think I would be---.."   
  
She didn't get to finish what she wanted to say as Trish hit her on the side of the head with her boot, devil triggering her way into the place, using her pistols to ask no questions and cause her own surprise strategy. Ever the action girl, Trish didn't give the other woman time to react or think. Using her power triggers on the sadistic woman, she kept coming at her opponent with those magical bullets, leaving not a trace of her breathing on the floor. The woman was knocked completely out. The short companion watched with horror and cowered in the corner, looked up at Trish with some greater awe then whimpered,  
  
"Are you my mistress now?"   
  
"Scram."  
  
The man ran like hell, leaving his dead mistress on the floor. Trish wiped her hands and walked over the woman and into the dungeon entrance. The sight of Dante tied up and with interesting apparel really sent her to a fit of giggles. Then stopped when she saw him groaning and his eyes looking as if he were not coherent. Immediately setting him free, she took his clothes and helped him dress. Dante raggedly whispered,  
  
"How did you manage to get her?"  
  
"Well considering that she used sneak attacks to obviously get your guard down, I used sneak attack AND force." Trish smugly replied, avoiding the way Dante looked, keeping her eyes diverted.   
  
Dante saw her glance over at his private areas and chortled out, "Trish, don't ask."   
  
His partner looked around and saw the wide variety of torture devices, which gave her a wicked idea but still avoided Dante as the idea created a flush in her cheeks. She picked up the bottle of Viagra that was lying around. She quirked a curious brow at Dante, smiling knowingly,  
  
"Don't tell me…….?"  
  
"As if." Dante rolled his eyes and groaned. "I already have a difficult time getting it down, much less up." He added with a slight laugh as if to incite a chuckle from his partner. She shook her head, not finding anything humorous in that statement, a teasing smirk reflected back at him,  
  
"No wonder I had to do the thinking around here. What with you boys not having enough blood flow going to your brains and all."   
  
"Ha ha," was the snide playful retort, while Dante rolled his eyes and ushered Trish to move along. But as they both headed out to return to their homely office abode, Trish turned around,   
  
"I forgot to give you something!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
She pulled out some coins from her tiny pocket, where a finely tuned eye could barely make out any compartment space whatsoever due to the fact that she wore skin tight pants, which left no room for such bulky change. Trish managed to pull out some nickels and pennies for Dante.   
  
"Uh, yeah? What about it?" came the confused reply from the already battered demon hunter.  
  
"Will this be enough for you to dance for me in those lovely pink thongs?"  
  
There was a mischievous look in her eye as she said those words. She was expecting Dante to either come back with a deadly response or get back at her with something that would humble her enough to still the giggles that came from her mouth. It was a lovely thing to tease the hunter and even a better advantage since she knew he was still under the effects of the drug, leaving him open for clever and good-natured attacks. It was quite another to get him to respond in a much more different manner altogether. He pinned her against the wall, his arms snaked out to imprison her while the steel blue of his eyes bore into hers, a harsh whisper and a slight breath came,  
  
"Trish, babe, if anyone is to wear any thongs around here, it'd be……."   
  
He paused. She waited with bated breath, not because what he may have said was unoriginal but that he looked so vulnerable, deadly beautiful with those silver strands wispy like and hung down to make a shade of his eyes, and lowering lips to her ears. To Trish it seemed as if he were attempting to kiss her. The touch of his hot breath on her neck tickled but there were no kisses as he collapsed, his body heavy upon hers. The long haired blonde grunted and pushed her partner carefully up and set his body alongside of hers, setting his arms over so that she may carry him back to their home.   
  
When Dante next awoke, he felt loads better and saw Trish with a tray of hot coffee, a plate of food and a package.   
  
Wiping his silver hair back, he groaned, "What's with the package?"  
  
"I don't know. It came for you." She shrugged and set the tray down. Dante picked up the package and opened it. Inside were a set of whips, a book on How to be a master and make your slave love it, and a set of thongs in a variety of rainbow colors. The demon hunter groaned aloud, "Trish, is this your idea of a joke?"  
  
"OH!" she exclaimed. "Those are for me!"  
  
"Trish."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"Well, I learned a lot while I was in Tibet."  
  
"NO WAY!" Dante cried out, astonished. "Tibetan monks don't teach you torture!"  
  
"Calm down, my impulsive half devil, I've learned an important lesson. And that is to concentrate on the things you want in this world." She said that as a matter of factly but Dante wanted to go to Tibet and wring a few monks necks if they got in her head that she was going to initiate this kind of method.   
  
"Trish, those god fearing monks don't want much in this world when it comes to pleasure and pain. It's more about spirituality with them. What in the world has whips and panties have to do with spirituality?" Maybe he thought with a brief insight that she had truly flipped and all those self help books were warping her perception. Women, demon or human, they were all the same, taking things a bit too far and the lot of them, mischievous to a fault. Except for his mother, he respectively added.   
  
"You don't think your mom was wiley to your father was he?"  
  
That brought on a moment of shock and Dante sputtered, "Trish? Are you reading my mind?"  
  
"Oh. That's what you were thinking? For shame!" laughing she assured him that that was purely coincidental. Then with a more sober expression, her voice lowered, schooled her features, asked a somber question,  
  
"Dante, how do you feel? Are you alright? I mean she was cruel to you wasn't she? It must be terrible to be humiliated like that."  
  
"Yes, it was."   
  
Sighing, he laid his head back, setting the back of his arm over his forehead and sighed deeply, and it seemed as if he were shuddering. Trish became instantly concerned, edging closer to him and wanting to hold him but was hesitant to.   
  
"I don't know if I can ever over come what had happened to me."  
  
"Dante."  
  
"I mean, having a woman over power you like that, I was going completely nuts. The drugs, the feeling of helplessness, the pain of not being able to use your powers and being enslaved, it was very painful and can leave a mere mortal man burned, branded, stained forever with the dark path of the insult. It can bring any man to hurt back others, or bring him to be cowering in his own shadow."  
  
The full impact of his words brought a raised eyebrow from Trish. It wasn't everyday that Dante became so philosophical about things but surprisingly so, it brought on a different side to him. Her heart reached out to him. She wanted to hold him close and make him feel safe. For the first time since she's known Dante, she wanted to protect him instead of the other way around. Sure, helping him during that time when Mundus nearly kicked his butt back at Mallet was another thing, but here, right now, with his ordeal, she felt moved to keep him safe like…….like a mother. It horrified her and gave her a little sadness. Her face was forever a blessing and a curse.   
  
"Trish."  
  
"What, Dante?"  
  
"How did you manage to find me?"  
  
"To tell you the truth I don't know. I just felt it you know. I know that sounds utterly strange but there was this figurine and it somehow gave me clues. A flash of something, like a psychic connection or something gave me images of you in a dungeon, a place where the signs of the streets would name itself in my mind."  
  
Dante stared at her. "You never told me you had psychic abilities, Trish."  
  
"I don't. I think it's just something that had to do with you." she shrugged, noting the drawn and worn out look he took on. Poor thing, she thought to herself, and making sure she would be there for him, give him comfort also brought on a feeling of supreme motherly affection. Dante didn't say much to what she commented and asked in a lowered tone,  
  
"Would you do something very important for me?" his voice was raspy, there was a slight edge of rough emotion in them. Trish, ever concerned breathed in,   
  
"Anything!"  
  
"Will you tie me up and this time you wear those thongs?" 


End file.
